


sweet pea • goodbye

by kornevable



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Blooming Zine, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21672943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kornevable/pseuds/kornevable
Summary: Perfection, Natsume mused, for a home that may be temporary but still held dear to the heart. It was a comforting thought—somewhere to go back to. It would be like carrying a piece of hope everywhere at anytime. The youkai's focus on the task almost seemed reverent in its nature.“It's a beautiful goal, I think,” he said with a small smile. “Home is where you feel the safest.”It was unimaginable for Natsume to refuse such a request about finding a home.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	sweet pea • goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This was written for the NatsuYuu [Blooming Zine](https://twitter.com/ichigoichiezine). The youkai is inspired by the yuki warashi, which is a little snow child wearing a straw hat. The fic was illustrated by [Deerinspotlight](https://twitter.com/deerinspotlight), I'm so happy we collaborated!!
> 
> Enjoy!

Natsume wrinkled his nose when he stepped in a particularly muddy pool of water, splashing droplets of dirty water on his pants and shoes. This wasn't how he had imagined spending his afternoon.

“I don't mind helping you, but do you have a specific place in mind?” he asked as he dodged a branch poking out of a bush.

The youkai turned their small frame around and glared under their thick straw hood. “For such a powerful human, you are very ignorant of our practices.”

Nyanko-sensei, bundled in Natsume's arms, snorted. “Don't pay attention to him, his ignorance will be his death.”

Natsume rolled his eyes and dropped Sensei without any hesitation. The cat let out an undignified yelp as he landed on the wet ground partly covered in equally soaked leaves, hissing and swiping at Natsume's feet. The youkai didn't look very impressed with their usual display of bickering.

“I have never encountered such a bizarre pair like the both of you,” they said flatly. “It is quite entertaining, to say the least.”

Their piercing gray eyes were gauging them, hard and inflexible, like they wondered if they were making the right choice by asking their aid. Meeting a youkai who didn't have their name in the Book of Friends was rare enough that Natsume may have showed a bit of too much enthusiasm to get to know them. His willingness to help, of course, had been met with Sensei's grumbling and whining.

He simply could not refuse their request to go home.

“I assume you travel often?” Natsume inquired. “If you have to find a home, that is.”

The youkai turned their eyes on the slippery road ahead, their sandals splashing in the water; somehow, their white kimono didn't seem to retain the stains it was subjected to. They shrugged.

“I suppose it is similar to you humans. At different stages of our life, we find different places to go. This one requires perfection, for it is a resting place.”

Perfection, Natsume mused, for a home that may be temporary but still held dear to the heart. It was a comforting thought—somewhere to go back to. It would be like carrying a piece of hope everywhere at anytime. The youkai's focus on the task almost seemed reverent in its nature.

“It's a beautiful goal, I think,” he said with a small smile. “Home is where you feel the safest.”

He recalled old futons and cramped rooms and a cardboard box, which presented a normal sight for him, but were never inviting enough to be called a place to go back to. The images of warm meals and tatami mats and a welcoming porch sprang forth and Natsume had to blink away the sudden onslaught of affection that stirred from within him. It wasn't unpleasant; he realized with frazzled surprise that echoed in his misstep, that there was a place he could call his home. 

The youkai eyed him with a calculating gaze, hands folded in front of them. “You are not wrong, but it is simply something we have to do. Humans truly attach sentimentality where it is not necessary.”

Despite their harsh words, Natsume didn't feel the air shift, nor did he miss the way these clear eyes looked far too wistful to express anything other than contemplation—like they were considering the meaning behind these words.

“Maybe we do feel more than youkai, but I don't think our experiences are that different from each other,” Natsume commented. “In the end we’re all trying to live our lives as best as possible.”

A pale hand came tugging at Natsume's, and the young man blinked in surprise. The youkai tilted their head. “You are so peculiar. Ensure that your goodwill and faith will not jeopardize your efforts.”

Sensei huffed and quickly nodded, though Natsume didn't quite understand what the warning was for. Perhaps he still didn't know enough about the youkai to decipher their messages; he'd have to ask Sensei later.

They kept walking in silence, leaving footprints in the mud and disturbing the beds of rocks and twigs. It was becoming harder to suggest a spot when everything looked identical, and the youkai didn't seem in a hurry to settle down. ‘That place was too big,’ the youkai would say, or ‘this branch would fall on their head,’ ‘the scents weren’t pleasant enough,’ ‘the noises of the forest couldn’t be appreciated in this location’… The search felt like a wild-goose chase that the youkai seemed to have infinite patience for. Sensei wasn't being very helpful, either, chasing after random animals.

Natsume’s own patience was starting to run thin, though he didn’t show any signs of it—this home undoubtedly meant a lot to the youkai, if they were so attentive even to the smallest details. He decided that anything could serve its purpose, so he pointed to a tree with a small crack at the base wide enough for the youkai to fit in.

“What about this? The trunk is big.”

The youkai surveyed their surroundings, taking notice of the stream a few meters away and the clear view on the rest of the forest. They put a hand on the tree, then nodded.

“I like it. Thank you for your help, human child. This will do.”

They fully faced Natsume and cupped their hands together; at its center, a bright light produced a colorful arrangement of white, pink and purple flowers, emitting a strong but fresh fragrance that Natsume instantly fell for.

“Sweet peas,” Sensei muttered. “Of course it’d be flower language. Those are too much of a compliment.”

Reinvigorated by this kind gesture, Natsume briefly wondered whether anything made by a youkai’s hand was instantly suffused with calming properties. Though the meaning behind the sweet peas was lost on him, as he looked at the youkai’s eyes, they showed so much sincerity Natsume couldn’t help but smile.

“Please take these flowers as a sign of my gratitude,” the youkai said in a warm voice, ignoring Sensei. “I wish you a happy spring.”

Natsume crouched down and carefully took the flowers, cradling them in his hands while the youkai bowed. The soft petals almost looked like they were glowing under the sun.

“Thank you. Take care of yourself, alright? I'll visit when I can.”

The youkai’s already quiet enthusiasm visibly subdued, but their lips still curled upwards, like a sign of reassurance they alone felt the need to express.

“A word of advice, human child. I see you are full of love to give; I trust your innocent and beautiful heart inspires more than one. You will meet many people who will benefit from your help, but you will leave them, since they are only one of the many encounters in your life.” They paused, lifting their head to look at the greying sky. “Everyone seeks kindness. Saying goodbye calls for a new hello.”

Confusion and joy simultaneously swirled in Natsume’s mind, an odd understanding dawning on him.

“Even if encounters are fleeting, I cherish what is important.”

A hint of surprise flickered in the youkai’s gaze and vanished just as quickly, momentarily taken aback by these unwavering words. Seemingly satisfied, they inclined their head one more time, and then headed inside the tree without a word.

Sensei pawed at Natsume's leg. “Come on, let's go. Leave that youkai be. There's nothing interesting left to see here.”

Sensei dashed through the forest, calling to Natsume and telling him to stop lingering like a fool. Natsume stared pensively at the tree trunk a bit longer, then at the flowers, before finally following his bodyguard.

On their way back, as Natsume kept the sweet peas in his hands without crushing them, the tree welcomed within its core a new spirit that would watch over the forest blooming into beautiful colors—a spirit no longer seen by any beings but the whispers of time.

**Author's Note:**

> / [twitter](https://twitter.com/kornetable)


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